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THE VIEW FROM HERE: TERRY O. ROEN

Determined duo battle Parkinson's together
Doctors claim the odds of the DeLand couple both being diagnosed with the 
disease are astronomical.
By Terry O. Roen
Sentinel Staff Writer

May 9, 2005

DELAND -- "The View From Here" is a slice of local life by Sentinel 
reporters. Today, staff writer Terry O. Roen contributes.

When Annette Gillespie's muscles refuse to move, her husband whispers 
lyrics from a song into her ear.

The tunes work like a balm on her rigid limbs that have suffered for 24 
years with the debilitating effects of Parkinson's disease. The retired 
Stetson University mathematics professor was diagnosed with the disease on 
her 50th birthday.

In a twist of fate, Bryan Gillespie, a former Stetson English professor, 
received the same diagnosis seven years ago. His wife diagnosed his 
symptoms of slowness, a shuffled walk and a lack of facial expressions 
before a doctor confirmed he had the chronic neurological disease that has 
no cure.

"When we got married, I vowed to share everything," says Bryan Gillespie, 
73. "I didn't know it included this."

Doctors claim the odds of a married couple being diagnosed with Parkinson's 
are astronomical. Dr. Richard S. Burns, director of the Muhammad Ali 
Research Center at Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix, has followed 
the Gillespies' cases for the past 20 years. Ironically, Bryan Gillespie 
was enrolled in a Parkinson's study run by Burns at the National Institutes 
of Health in Bethesda, Md. before he was diagnosed. He was one of the 
control patients when he joined his wife in an effort to help doctors 
better diagnose the disease.

During Burns' 20 years following thousands of Parkinson's patients, he said 
the Gillespies are only one of two couples he has seen with the disease.

Annette Gillespie continued to teach at Stetson until her retirement in 
1992. She walked the four blocks to school wearing a Walkman with marching 
music that helped her lift her feet high to prevent a fall. The 74-year-old 
suffers from dyskinesia, the involuntary body movements that appear as 
jerking, twisting and fidgeting, caused by the medications that keep her 
mobile.

The movements are more noticeable to strangers who stare at restaurants 
than to the mother of three and grandmother of five, who asks her husband 
if the movements stop while she sleeps. The constant twisting goes dormant 
when she finally gives in to sleep, her husband said.

"My mom was never the type of person who sat around a lot," says Susan 
Gillespie, her oldest daughter who is a senior editor for Harcourt School 
Publishers in Orlando.

Annette Gillespie still cooks but her recipes lean toward pot roasts and 
things that can be tossed into a crockpot. She no longer walks or drives 
but she does water exercises in her backyard pool so her muscles can still 
propel her to safety after a fall.

The couple also attend a weekly exercise class led by Liz Schumaker, a 
retired exercise science professor from Stetson, who created the classes 
specifically for her friends 15 years ago. Both say the hourlong class 
eases their stiffness, improves their disposition and helps them socialize 
with others stricken with the disease. The exercisers all belong to the 
130-member DeLand Parkinson's Support Group, which Annette Gillespie 
started 20 years ago.

Bryan Gillespie's mobility is not as restricted. He suffers from a 
different form of the disease that manifests itself with tremors, stiff 
muscles and difficulty balancing. He describes a tough spell last month 
when he was getting adjusted to a new medication and his muscles froze.

"She took over as people do when there's a real marriage," he says. 
"Annette is a source of all kinds of comfort and love."

The couple continue to live in the gray shingle home they built in 1967 on 
21/2 acres of scrub pine and oak. Their philosophy is to stay active by 
attending the Sunday and Wednesday services at First Baptist Church. They 
share a faith that keeps their spirits buoyed.

"I've never once asked God, `Why me?' " says Annette Gillespie. "When I 
pray for healing, I pray for everyone else."

They also continue to dine each month with a group of Stetson friends in a 
supper club they've enjoyed for 50 years. The couples eat at each others' 
homes and split the grocery cost for the host who provides the meal. The 
divvy ranges from $2.75 to $3.25 apiece, depending on the dinner.

"They are absolutely amazing," says John Gillespie, their youngest son who 
lives in Charlotte, N.C. "They have rigged up everything possible to remain 
independent."

The Gillespies have installed a medical-alert system throughout their home, 
there is a doorbell next to an easy chair in the family room, a metal pole 
to help them to get up from their chairs and a lift over their bed. Their 
plan is to remain in their home until one of them dies, then the remaining 
spouse will go live with their daughter Mary Stackhouse, an English teacher 
in Silver Spring, Md.

"They are a team," says Stackhouse, 41. "I don't know what they would do 
without each other." The couple sit in the family room watching a 
6-year-old movie of their son's wedding. Bryan Gillespie points to the 
sequence where he sings "When the Saints Go Marching In" to his wife when 
her feet froze. He still is amazed at the ease of movement as they glide 
down the aisle together.
Copyright © 2005, Orlando Sentinel

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